


What Happens in Space Vegas...

by Kittenly



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/M, Gen, Grace Shepard - Freeform, Mass Effect 3: Citadel, Most chapters will be probably be a strong T and many will be Gen instead of romance heavy., Pale Shepard/Garrus, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rated E for a few chapters being explicit., autistic!Shepard
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-05
Updated: 2014-11-03
Packaged: 2018-02-19 22:22:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2405033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kittenly/pseuds/Kittenly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just as she's about to depart to take down Cerberus, Commander Grace Shepard gets the news: the Normandy is grounded for mandatory maintenance. Having no other choice, she spends some time in Anderson's apartment, above the Silversun Strip. But this shore leave will hardly be slow torture she fears--someone's trying kill her. And Shepard wouldn't have it any other way. </p><p>Novelization/expansion on the citadel DLC, with 500% more Shenko.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Grounded

The metal model Citadel slipped from Grace Shepard’s fingers and thunked dully on the docking bay floor.

“What?” Shepard demanded. Her fingers flew to her ear, pressing the com closer.

“I just got the news,” Joker said in her ear, “Apparently the orders are from Hackett himself.”

Shepard swore loudly, drawing glances from the others in the docking bay. “He can’t do this!” she said. “He can’t ground me! We’ve just got Cerberus’ location. We need to go _now_.”

“I hear you, Commander,” Joker said. “But unfortunately, Anderson is on his side this time, so I think stealing the ship is out of the question.”

Shepard knew she was beaten, but she wasn’t ready to give in quite yet. She began, “We’ve got EDI—“

The AI’s voice broke in over the com. “I do not believe shore leave to be a bad thing, Shepard. Despite your and Jeff’s reservations, the ship could use some maintenance, and we are unlikely to get it once we begin our assault on Cerberus.”

With a frustrated growl, Shepard let the com connection drop. She stalked over to the door that led to the Normandy’s airlock and glared at it, as if her focused will could reverse the grounding order. When the lock stayed stubbornly red, Shepard gave it a solid kick.

She regretted it almost instantly for two reasons. First was the dull throbbing the spread down the bones of her foot and her up through her shin. Second was the nervous glances she gathered from those around her.

She bent down and grabbed the model citadel. Her foot pounded, and she idly wondered if she had fractured something. She’d experienced worse pain—by several magnitudes—but she had no adrenaline to dull it and no one was trying to kill her to distract her. Sighing, she leaned on the rail and stared out the window at the ships drifting by.

“Commander?”

Shepard looked up. Steve Cortez walked towards her, hands in his pockets, a sympathetic smile on his face.

“Heard we’re grounded. Rough luck,” he said. “You holding up okay?”

Shepard sighed and the pair of them walked towards the elevator. “I’ve been better, Steve. Has the rest of the crew heard?”

He nodded. “Yeah, the link was open when Joker broke the news.”

“So everyone on my crew heard me whining?”

Steve chuckled. “You weren’t whining, Commander. It’s tough to be grounded.” He glanced down. “Are you limping?” he asked.

“Kicked a door,” Shepard muttered, causing Steve to laugh. Shepard ignored him.

“So what’s our lodging situation like?”

“Alliance is providing room and board. They’re putting us up on the Silversun Strip.”

That surprised Shepard. It didn’t seem particularly military to send your elite team to Space-Vegas.

“I’ve stayed in casino hotels before. Let’s hope these are nicer.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem for you, Commander,” Steve said. “You’ve got Anderson’s apartment.”

“Right,” Shepard said absently. She’d forgot all about Anderson’s offer. “I’d rather stay with the crew—“

Steve caught her by the shoulder and faced her. Shepard frowned as he gave her an exasperated little shake.

“Commander,” he said and Shepard recognized his patient explaining voice.

“Oh,” Shepard said with a sigh. “This is one of those… things? Things that people are supposed to do?”

“Yeah. Anderson wants you to use his apartment. When people do nice things for you, you’re supposed to go along with it. It’ll make him happy.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll go to the apartment. There’s only so much trouble the crew can get in while we’re grounded, right?” Shepard paused, considering. “Actually, don’t answer that question. I don’t want to think about it.”

As the elevator closed behind them, Steve said, “I wouldn’t worry too much. After all, if you’re not there, the amount of trouble is going to be what? Halved? Quartered?”

“Shut up, Cortez.”

* * *

The bright lights of the Silversun Strip glared in Shepard’s eyes as she followed the directions to Anderson’s apartment. She glanced around, automatically identifying cover and defensible strongholds. Sounds of gunfire and shuttle engines started to bleed into the normal sounds of the crowds.

Inhaling deeply, Shepard pulled at the dog tags around her neck and rubbed them between her fingers. “I’m Commander Grace Shepard,” she mumbled to herself. “I’m on shore leave while the Normandy SR2 is being repaired. Admiral David Anderson invited me to use his apartment while I’m here. I’m walking along the Silversun Strip where there is a casino, an arcade, and a combat simulator.” She continued describing everything she saw to herself until she reached the turn off for the apartments.

She got a strange look from the asari saleswoman whose kiosk was next to the elevator, but staying grounded was more important than looking normal. The elevator was smooth and quiet, unlike the Normandy’s. It made Shepard nervous—the fact that she couldn’t hear the hum of engines everywhere. As the elevator rose, Shepard busied herself by intently studying the model citadel she had procured and dropped earlier. It appeared unharmed, so Shepard wouldn’t have to buy another one. The model was metal and cool under Shepard’s fingers as she located landmarks. Finally, the elevator stopped, and Shepard walked out into a short corridor. The walls were painted tastefully, rather than the bare metal she was accustomed to.

Outside the door to Anderson’s apartment hovered Glyph.

“Welcome, Commander,” the VI said. “I am to give you the access code to the apartment and connect you to Admiral Anderson.”

Shepard nodded, “Any word on his status?”

“None currently, Commander. But I assure you, he will be with you as soon as possible.”

The door opened behind Glyph and Shepard followed him in. She had taken about three steps when the lights brightened.  Shepard halted and stared around in shock. The walls were painted a warm burgundy, making the vast apartment seem to glow like a dying ember. Afternoon light spilled onto the polished hardwood floors through enormous windows, which were rimmed by heavy curtains just a few shades darker than the walls. Motes of dust hung in the air, and Shepard watched them drift around the cavernous living room.

“I’ve never seen this much luxury in one place,” Shepard said.

“It is one of the finer housing units that the Alliance owns,” Glyph said.

“I’ll bet.”

She was about to start exploring when the monitor on the wall flickered to life. The signal was weak and burst with occasional static, but she could make out Anderson well enough across the vid link.

“Shepard,” he said. “I’m glad you found the place.”

“Yeah,” Shepard said. “It’s…bigger than I thought it would be.” She glanced around then focused back on Anderson. “How are things on Earth?”

Anderson sighed. “How you’d expect. We’re managing for now. But I wanted to talk to you about the apartment. How do you like it?”

“Uh,” Shepard said uncertainly. “It’s…big?”

Anderson laughed. “That it is. Kahlee and I wanted to settle down here together one day.”

“I’m sure you’ll be able to when this is all over.”

Anderson gave a little shake of his head. “When this is over, and if I make it, I don’t think I’ll want to leave Earth. I’ve got no use for a home on the citadel.”

“I guess I can see that.”

“So I want you to have it.”

Shepard blinked at the vid. She couldn’t have heard right.

“Sir?” she said.

“You need a place to relax. A place to come back to at the end of the day. I know you’ve never really had a home, Shepard.”

“I’ve got the Normandy,” she said quietly.

Anderson laughed. Shepard felt that if he had been in the room with her, he would have given her one of those one armed hugs. The ones he gave her whenever she had just done something very “Shepard-like.”

“I know Shepard. But just humor your old CO.”

Shepard shook her head. “I can’t, sir. I really can’t accept something like this.”

“You’d be doing me a favor,” he said. “Taking it off my hands.”

Shepard gave him her best glare. That was fighting dirty. He knew she’d do anything to help him out. Taking a deep breath, she composed her face into what she hoped looked like a grateful expression.

“Then thank you, sir. I won’t be able to repay you.”

“Save the galaxy and we’ll call it even,” he said with a chuckle.

For the first time since she received news of the grounding order, Shepard smiled. “I’ll do what I can.”

“Then I’ve already stayed too long. Anderson out.”

“Take care, sir,” Shepard said. The screen went black and the room went back to its eerie quietness.

Shepard turned to face the enormous windows that framed the living area. She shuffled her feet, trying to get her mind to wrap around the idea that she now had a home. An official home. A place under her name (or would be when Anderson got all the paperwork finished).

She wandered through the immense apartment. All around her were shelves upon shelves of books, some paper, more electronic. The furniture was not what she expected from a military man. It was built for comfort, not utility, and Shepard had a feeling it’s what Miranda would have called stylish. Though she was alone and presumably safe, Shepard moved through the rooms with wary silence.

When she found the hot tub, she almost started to cry. She didn’t know how to handle it. Shepard had only been in a hot tube on two blissful occasions—during both of which she had been breaking and entering. To see one in Anderson’s-but-now-Shepard’s home. It was too much, too different from what she was used to. Her cabin on the Normandy was a shoebox, but it had her fish, her hamster, her books, and most nights, Kaidan. It was hers.

Once she regained executive functions, Shepard shut the door to the hot tub tightly so she wouldn’t have to deal with it. Feeling overwhelmed, Shepard retreated downstairs. On the Normandy, she knew every creak and pop. Every whistle and beep had already been addressed and processed. The unfamiliarity of the apartment made her jumpy, as the haze of memories that hung on the peripheral of her consciousness seeped in and warped the ambient noise into sounds of battles already fought.

Shepard frowned and started murmuring descriptions of her surroundings to herself. She was so focused on staying grounded that the email ping gave her an adrenaline spike usually reserved for combat. She made her way to the back of the apartment, into a study where the computer interface was. While the study itself was nearly as big as her cabin, it was still small enough to feel cozy.

“You have unread messages at your private terminal,” a cool feminine VI said over the apartment’s speakers.

“I heard,” Shepard said to the air.

She slid into the rolling chair at the monitor. The interface popped up, showing a message from Joker.

_Commander, I’ve got something important to talk to you about. Even more urgent is I got us reservations at Ryuusei’s Sushi Bar. I guess name-dropping Commander Shepard gets you into certain places._

Shepard frowned. She hadn’t pegged Joker as a foodie, but then again, she tended to assume that everyone viewed food as she did. She should probably revise that assumption, as Kaidan had informed that no one found military rations even remotely palatable, and the fact that she _liked_ them was proof that she couldn’t be human. 

She typed out a reply, then found a comfortable chair in the corner of the study. There were books all around her, but what interested her most were the data pads containing interviews with Anderson.

After a long while of listening to the interviews, Shepard’s com pinged, signaling an incoming call.

“Shepard,” she answered.

“Hey,” said Kaidan. “How’s Anderson’s apartment?”

Shepard gave a little nod to herself. It was more comfortable to still call it Anderson’s apartment. “Big. Overwhelming. I haven’t explored most of it yet.”

“And you, Grace? How you holding up?” he asked. He did a good job of sounding casual, but Shepard could hear the edge of worry in his voice.

“You know,” she hedged. Shepard didn’t like to worry her crew unnecessarily, but this was Kaidan.

“I know how you get when you’re grounded.”

Shepard sighed. “I’ll be fine. I’m just frustrated is all.”

“Any flashes?”

“The usual, but I’ve managed to stay out of any rabbit holes.”

“Good.”

“Any particular reason you called?” Shepard asked, changing the subject. She tried to make her voice flirty. She wasn’t sure if it worked, but Kaidan laughed.

“Yes, but unfortunately the reason you’re hoping for. I’ve tracked down a lead on one of my students. I think she’s got family in the area that I could get in touch with. Maybe find her.”

“That’s great news,” Shepard said. She smiled to herself at his excitement.

Kaidan seemed to struggle for some words. “I…I know being grounded takes a toll on you. If you need me to come up tonight, I’m sure—“

Shepard cut him off. “Go track down that lead. I know how important your students are to you.” She pulled her feet up as if trying to curl herself around Kaidan’s voice. “Besides,” she said lightly, “I’ve got a date at the that sushi bar with all the fish.”

There was an abrupt silence that followed. Shepard could practically hear the wheels turning in Kaidan’s brain as he tried to figure out where to begin with that comment.

“You have a date,” he echoed. He didn’t sound upset, just very confused. “At Ryuusei’s Sushi Bar?”

Shepard laughed. “Yep,” she said without explanation.

“Uh, you’re gonna have to this explain to your _boyfriend._ He’s a little slow sometimes.”

“Joker wanted to talk about something."

“At Ryuusei’s Sushi Bar,” Kadain said incredulously. “Joker got a reservation at _Ryuusei’s Sushi Bar_?”

“Yeah. Is that weird?” Shepard said, frowning.

“Shepard, the waiting list there is months long,” said Kaidan. Shepard thought she heard a touch of envy in his voice. “You must have noticed the line-ups. They run out into the street, sometimes there’re a hundred people in them.”

“Huh,” said Shepard. “I guess I didn’t notice. They have lots of fish.”

Kaidan gave a put-upon sigh, though Shepard heard the affection in it.

“What are you sighing about?”

“Of all the people to get to go to one of fanciest, most sophisticated restaurants in the galaxy, it just had to be you. And I’m not even going with you to enjoy it for you.”

“I’ll enjoy it!” Shepard said indigently.

“Shepard, you know I love you more than anything, right?”

It was Shepard’s turn to sigh. “Where are you going with this?”

“So when I say that I’ve met dogs with a more developed sense of taste than you, I mean it with love.”

If he had been in the same room, Shepard would have tossed him across the room with her biotics. “I’ll hang up on you,” she threatened.

“No you won’t.”

Shepard considered doing just that to make a point. “Fine,” she said. “But Kaidan, I do have to go if I’m gonna make the reservation. I’ll doggie bag something for you.”

Kaidan audibly groaned. “You… You can’t… Shepard… you can’t get a doggie bag at Ryuusei’s!”

“What kind of crappy restaurant doesn’t let you take home food?”

“Never mind. You’re officially hopeless. I’ll swing by the apartment as soon as I can. Try to enjoy the nice food, Shepard. For me.”

Shepard made a disgusted noise and let the connection drop. If this restaurant was as sophisticated as Kaidan had made it out, it would mean she should change out of her Normandy uniform. With a glance at the clock, she rushed upstairs to change. Besides her formal military wear, Shepard only had one nice outfit—the dress Kasumi had given her on their first mission together. It was a slinky, tiny thing, made of close-fitting grey fabric that made Shepard feel feminine despite her body having zero curves to speak of.

“I’ll make you proud tonight,” she said to the absent Kasumi. She unsnapped the clip that held up her longish red hair, and after a good brushing, clipped it back into the secure, folded bun she always wore. She put on the necklace that went with the dress, which Kasumi said made her eyes look more blue than their usual clear grey.

The one downside to the dress was it made carrying her pistol inconspicuously impossible. She considered taking it along with her anyway, but figured that it was probably One Of Those Things that she shouldn’t do.

The clock chimed, and Shepard rushed out the apartment. She was already running late. 


	2. Night Out at Ryuusei's

 

As she stepped out onto the strip, Shepard paused and took a moment to breathe before plunging into the crowds. She felt exposed in only the dress, without even her tech armor to protect herself. She was sure Joker would understand it if she engaged her shields at dinner, but she figured it was probably tacky or something to show up to a sophisticated restaurant armed and paranoid. 

Though she missed the comforting weight of her gear, she missed the steady presences of Garrus and Kaidan more. She almost never went anywhere outside of the Normandy without those two watching her back. And giving her directions. As the sounds and smells of so many people pressed up against her, Shepard felt her mind go fuzzy, and any sense of direction she had slipped out like water between her fingers. 

Shepard navigated the crowds of the strip with the a strange ease and urgency that only a street kid could learn. Though she tried to avoid it, she ended up touching a few people, and each sent a prickly sensation up her arm as if a large insect had landed where their skin touched hers. Finally, she escaped the throng and managed to get to the taxi stand. 

As the street car flew her towards the restaurant, the driver chatted, an older man with some colonial accent. 

“You’re looking lovely tonight, Miss. Where are you headed?”

Shepard shook her head, trying to find words from her buzzing mind. “Uh, the place with all the fish,” she said. “The fish all rolled up in the… the…rice blankets?” She grimaced as the words left her mouth. 

The cabbie was silent for a moment, then chuckled. “Ryuusei's?”

“That’s the one.”

“You’re boyfriend must be pretty sweet on you if he got you reservations there.”

Shepard frowned. “I’m not meeting my boyfriend.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, girlfriend?”

“Helmsman.”

The cabbie gave her a bemused look, then comprehension dawned on his face. “Commander Shepard,” he said, with slight awe in his voice. “I didn't recognize you. You’re always in uniform on the vids.”

In a few moments, they arrived outside their destination “No charge,” he said. Ignoring him, Shepard left a generous tip, and he gave her a smile and a wave as she walked toward the line that was snaking down the strip. The whole restaurant was surrounded by enormous glass aquariums which housed a multitude of fish from all over the galaxy. Most of them she recognized, as she owned many kinds herself. 

As she was getting in line, the sharply dressed host ran out and took her arm. 

“Commander Shepard,” he said. “We have your table waiting.”

He led her to past the crowd and Shepard didn’t notice the glares that those waiting in the long line shot at her. She was too busy watching the fish. When they entered the restaurant, movement caught her eye. She looked over and saw Joker sitting at a table near the back of the restaurant. He waved at her enthusiastically, bouncing a little in his seat. 

“Hey Commander,” he said. “I’ve never been in here before. I hear they have amazing appetizers. What do you think—gyoza? Tempura? You’re buying right? This meal is would cost me a week’s salary.”

Shepard smiled at Joker and shook her head. “Go crazy,” she said. “You deserve it, and I have been reminded on many occasions that I don’t deserve to have a say in what we eat.”

Joker gave a little whoop that drew the glares of some of the patrons around them. “Never thought I’d be thankful for your complete lack of taste. At least you can choose restaurants well. I can’t believe you got in here.”

“What?” Shepard said frowning. Just then, a waitress came by and Joker ordered them drinks and starters. When she left, he gave her a quizzical look. 

“So you said you had something important to talk about?” he said. “Let’s get the business over with so we can enjoy our fancy-pants cuisine.”

Hairs rose on the back of Shepard’s neck. Something was wrong. 

“I got a message saying you had an important update on the Normandy,” she said. 

It was Joker’s turn to frown. “But I got an email from you.”

They looked at each other in silence for a moment before movement caught their eyes from the front of Ryuusei's. A young woman in an alliance uniform was waving at them and trying to duck around the irritated restaurant host. 

Shepard and Joker stared as the woman stumbled over to them. She was unremarkable—not tall, not short, not thin or fat. She seemed sort of cute without being overly attractive. Hers was a face that would slide easily from your mind if you weren’t careful. 

She stopped, hovering over their table. “Commander Shepard!” she said, fiddling with her hands nervously. “Oh, my god. It’s such an honor to meet you. Staff Analyst Maya Brooks.” She looked like she wanted to reach out and grab Shepard’s hand but caught herself and grimaced. “Oh, sorry. Excuse me. I just got so excited. Commander Shepard, someone is trying to kill you!”

There was an awkward pause, and Shepard and Joker glanced at each other. Finally, Joker said, “Yeah, uh, we know.”

Shepard nodded slowly. Brooks stared for a second, confused, and then hit her forehead dramatically. “Of course. The Reapers. Cerberus”

“And the Batarians,” Shepard added conversationally. Brooks stared at her wide eyed “Just thought I’d be thorough,” Shepard said with a shrug.

“No. I mean yes. Yes, I know that the Reapers want you dead. But this is someone _here_. On the Citadel,” Brooks said. She began speaking so quickly that Shepard had a hard time keeping track of what she was saying. 

“I work in Alliance Intelligence and someone has been trying to hack your Spectre codes. I’m usually just a desk jockey—running makes me break out in hives—but everyone is so busy with the war that I was the only one free to send. They must have been desperate. Last time I did field work, I tried to land the ship on Saturn. You can imagine—“

“Brooks,” Shepard interrupted. “Stay focused.”

Just as the words left her, Shepard spotted what appeared to be armed mercs push their way past the host. Her suspicions were confirmed when one of them pistol-whipped him, sending the man sprawling to the floor. Shepard was already moving when the group started shooting their guns into the air. She knocked over their table, making a barrier with Joker under cover. 

Shepard ducked around the table, pulling Joker from his chair. She tried to be as gentle as possible, but Joker groaned in pain as they hit the floor behind the upturned table. 

“I think I broke my pancreas,” Joker moaned.

“You can’t break your pancreas,” said Shepard. “It’s an organ.”

“Thanks, Commander. I feel so much better now.”

Shepard peeked around the table. Tables and glass wear were scattered everywhere, and the restaurant was full of screaming. The adrenaline was pumping through Shepard’s body, making everything crystal clear and sharp. With a quick glance, she formed a mental map of the mess of a restaurant, noting where groups of mercs were gathered, where civilians were huddled, and places that would make decent cover. 

Now if she had only brought her pistol. Her tech armor hummed into existence around her, giving her a small sense of comfort even if she was in nothing but a slinky dress. 

Brooks was quivering behind a flipped table not far from her. Shepard was about to call out to her when two mercs descended, dragging Brooks off. 

“Damn it,” Shepard cursed. A plain black shape caught her eye. A pistol was on the ground near where Brooks had been. 

“Joker,” she said in a low voice. Joker had picked himself up and was crouching, and a string of creative profanities were spewing from him. He looked at her. 

“There’s a back exit,” she said, pointing behind them. “Get out.”

“Sure thing, Commander,” he said, shuffling off in that direction. As she expected, the mercs noticed him and made for him, leaving Shepard free to slip out and grab the pistol. 

The mercs approached Joker and made to grab him. Joker squawked and stumbled back. Shepard dropped the two mercs with two precise headshots each. As they fell, Joker stared at Shepard with an open mouth. 

“You used me as bait!” he shouted. 

“Get out!” Shepard shouted back. 

As Joker continued his shuffle towards the back, Shepard could still hear him muttering to himself about being used as bait. 

Once she was sure he was safe, Shepard looked around for Brooks. She was lying on the glass floor on the other side of the room, and it looked like she was injured. 

Shepard ran the situation through her head. She had no backup, and she was sorely outnumbered. She only had her tech armor compared to these mercs in their full body armor. The pistol had a nice punch, but she would need to conserve her shots. 

Ducking out from behind cover, she threw a biotic warp field at the closest merc, sending them flying back into a group of mercs, while they were in a pile, she activated the overload macro on her omnitool, and turned her attention to the rest of the restaurant as the pile of mercs fried as their gear went on the fritz. 

She navigated through the upturned tables over to Brooks, using the little pistol as little as possible and relying primarily on her tech and biotic skills. 

Crouching down by Brooks, Shepard gave her a quick check. She didn’t seem to have any serious injuries. 

“Can you stand,” Shepard asked.

“I think so,” Brooks said. 

“There’s an exit at the back—“ 

Brooks screamed. A shot rang past Shepard’s ear and she saw it graze Brooks’ side. The woman tumbled back, and Shepard looked around for the source of the bullet. Just as she spotted the gunman, he fired. She managed to roll out of the way, but the shot hit the glass floor and the whole fish tank shattered. Shepard gave a startled yelp as she plunged through salt water and glass. 

She tried to grab onto something, anything to break her fall, and the first thing her hands found was a lighted billboard. She didn’t feel the pain as she grabbed it. She still fell, her hands tearing through the little glass lights and shutters as she tried to find a grip. 

Her fingers finally caught the base of the board, but the flimsy metal was not meant to support a human’s weight. It bent and broke, sending Shepard crashing down through the wards. She hit the platform hard. It would have killed someone without the skeletal upgrades Cerberus had given her. As it was, Shepard lay there, winded, trying to take inventory of the damage. Nothing felt broken, though she was sure that most of her ribs were cracked, and she wouldn’t be surprised if she had stress fractures all along her body. Her left shoulder was dislocated, from when she had tried to grab the billboard. Taking a deep breath, she braced her self and popped it back into place, letting out a soft groan. 

She looked around, trying to find a landmark that would let her call Joker or Cortez or C-Sec to come pick her up. As she clicked on her comm, she heard Brooks’ relieved sigh. 

“You’re alive!” she said. “I was shot! Shot! With a gun! I had to use medi-gel and everything!”

“Calm down, Brooks,” Shepard said. 

“Oh. Right. It’s just…I took a desk job so this wouldn’t happen.”

“Brooks!”

“Sorry!” Brooks said, and her flinch was audible. 

“Just focus,” Shepard said. “What can you tell me?”

“Not much,” Brooks said. “And this line is empty but not secure. We should try to avoid anything specific.”

“I need evac. C-Sec’s probably the easiest to reach.”

“Okay. Where should I tell them to pick you up?” 

Shepard looked around. She had never been to this part of the wards before. “Uh, there’s a skycarlot nearby. I’ll make my way over there.”

“Roger. Er. Over? Over and out?”

“You’re fine, Brooks. Shepard out.”

The skylot was across the chasm that served as a roadway here in the wards. There were plenty of crossings, Shepard just needed to find a path. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Just some info about Shepard for those who want a better picture of her: Earthborn from Chicago, War Hero, Paragon, Sentinel (Yeah, she's the same class as Kaidan. This was not intentional, I just always pick the most healer-y class), Autistic, Massive Dork.


End file.
